


Easy A

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every A is an easy one when you're Tony Stark. Getting his TA to fall for him? Well that's a little bit higher on the difficulty scale. But Tony's no quitter; Bruce Banner won't know what hits him until it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy A

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commission for [Jerry](http://jerry520.tumblr.com/) (an awesome guy who knows how tight money is with me/my family and helped out when our fridge was empty). As for the canon: even though it's definitely an AU (and hella porny besides), this is sort of a smush between the various canons I'm familiar with. If I write more stories set in this AU, you'll probably see how a lot of my Tony-voice comes from Ultimates as opposed to MCU or 616.

"I hope you're fine with Coke," Bruce Banner says as he sets a dark green cup down next to where Tony is toying with the left corner of the book currently opened to a Feynman diagram. He sets another cup down near his seat. "It's the only thing I have to drink at the moment."

Bruce glances at the worn plastic cup and then at the expensive watch decorating Tony's wrist. Cracking a faint smile, Bruce pushes the fingers of one hand through his wavy brown hair and gestures at the cup's cracked side with the other.

"I feel like I should be offering you a wineglass or something to drink it in."

Tony smiles back at his TA.

"Only if you were actually going to get me drunk," Tony says in a teasing tone as he sets his phone down on the opposite side of his textbook. He curls his hand around the base of the sturdy green cup and lifts it to his lips. The soda stings a bit against his chapped lips, but Tony gulps it down anyway, swallowing quietly until the cup is half-empty so that Bruce won't feel like a terrible host. "But this is fine." Tony feels his smile widen. "I can't remember the last time I had a Coke. Rhodey only buys Pepsi for the dorms."

Bruce sits down in the chair just off to the side of Tony's chair and leans forward, peering at the tiny words in the textbook.

"Didn't we go over this last session," Bruce says, peering at the diagram and the related problems with his eyes going narrow behind the lenses of his glasses. He skims over the words, reading fast while moving his mouth along with the words on the page. "I didn't know you were still having trouble with this problem set. Professor Holt said that you've been doing better in the class."

Tony rolls his shoulders in what's supposed to look like a careless shrug.

"Better's not good enough, I guess," Tony says. "I should be able to recite these functions in my sleep." And he can, but admitting as much would mean the end of Tony's study sessions with his kind TA. Tony sighs loudly and jabs at one page of the textbook at a problem that he'd done several nights before. "Can we go over this one, Bruce?"

Time passes quickly under Bruce's tutelage. Even though Tony knows the work well enough to pass the class on his own, he enjoys listening to Bruce explain the theories behind the diagrams in front of him. Bruce has a nice speaking voice. Soft, but deep, it's the kind of voice that Tony could listen to on end.

Bruce's voice is so captivating, that Tony actually zones out part of the way through their study session. He only tunes back in at the end of the conversation when Bruce props the side of his face up on the palm of one hand and says, "I've seen your grades, Tony. If you need tutoring, then I'm secretly an alien overlord."

Blinking, Tony tries to replay the conversation in his head. When he comes up blank, Tony decides against blurting out the first thing in his mind --a lie-- and goes for the next easiest route.

"How long have you known?"

"It's my job to read your papers," Bruce points out with a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I don't just skim through them and besides, I know enough about you to know that if you're taking an advance physics class as an elective, it's because you can do the work." When Tony raises his eyebrows at him in a silent question, Bruce laughs quietly and finally answers the question. "I've known since the second week of the semester."

Tony pushes back the urge to blurt out excuses.

"If you knew --"

"Why'd I let you keep coming by my room to study?" Bruce interrupts him gently, still smiling in the same kind way that caught Tony's attention their very first day of Quantum Mechanics.

Tony nods.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Tony," Bruce says as he sits close enough to Tony that he can feel the warmth of the other man's thigh through his slacks. "It had a lot to do with my ego. I liked the idea that you asked  _me_  to help you even though I couldn't figure out your ulterior motive." Bruce pauses to take a sip of his own soda and then rests the cup down on the table. "You  _do_  have an ulterior motive for asking me to help you study, don't you?"

Tony has to laugh. "Of course I do," he admits, smiling widely at Bruce. "I'm not sure if I want to say it out loud though. You've been nicer to me than I deserve and I really don't want to creep you out." Following Bruce's lead, Tony grabs for his glass of Coke and drains the glass in a few deep gulps before dropping it to the table with a dull clatter. "But trust me, it's nothing bad."

"Let me be the judge of that, Tony," Bruce says, reaching out to brush his fingers over the back of Tony's left hand.

That initial touch is electrifying. Heat seems to rocket through Tony's body at that light touch and he's left blinking at Bruce as the other man leans in close and smiles at him.

"Come on, Tony. It can't be that creepy."

Shrugging, Tony pauses to weigh the pros and cons of telling Bruce the truth. Rhodey isn't wrong about how much trouble he can get into with this. Making a move on Bruce can only end in so many ways and few of them are positive. Tony hasn't checked the MIT handbook to see what it says on relationships between staff and students --or to see if his TA counts as staff--, but he doesn't have high hopes there.

"I thought you were hot," Tony says after several seconds of silence pass between them. "That first day, I think I spent more time focusing on you than I did on the lecture." Tony feels his lips twitch upward with a small smile and he glances down at his hands so that he doesn't have to look at Bruce just yet.

When Bruce laughs a second later, Tony winces at first, already preparing for a rejection. Bruce's next words go a long way to easing his worries.

"You think I'm hot," Bruce says with a healthy note of disbelief in his low voice. "Me? Are you sure?"

It's Tony's turn to laugh next and he does, because the only alternative at that moment is for him to lean over and kiss Bruce until they're both done talking. He drums the tips of his fingers over the table next to his phone until he can think of anything else.

"Of course I think you're hot," Tony says, forcing his eyes up to meet Bruce's dark gaze. "You  _are_. Maybe it's the fact that everyone at MIT kind of  _has_ to like nerds, but I like that you're one of the few people that can talk circles around me." Tony starts fidgeting, bouncing his leg so hard that the table jiggles from it. "I like you. I like you enough that I pretended that I hadn't memorized to book after that first class. If that's creepy or too much, I can switch classes or sections or something."

Bruce shakes his head.

"It's not," Bruce says quickly, reaching out to touch Tony's hand with one of his own. "It's not too much and you're not creepy." He gives Tony's hand a quick squeeze and then leans back in his chair. "Besides, I... I like you too, Tony." Bruce turns bright red and then lets out a nervous-sounding burst of laughter. "I sounded like a kid right then, didn't I?" He starts a little fidgeting of his own, but soon forces himself into stillness.

Tony grins and shakes his own head in response. "Not at all," he says, "But I think that if we both like each other and we're done studying, that there are better things we could be doing."

"What do you have in mind, Tony?" Bruce asks, the expression on his face seeming openly curious.

"You have a couch in here don't you," Tony says, already moving before Bruce gets a chance to do more than blink at him with wide eyes. He holds out his hand for Bruce to take. "Let's go break it in."

*

Bruce is a fast learner.

He quickly figures out the types of kisses that Tony likes the most (fast, almost teasing kisses as opposed to slower ones) and makes the most out of them.

Attentive to a fault, Bruce picks up on Tony's tells the second that they're given and reacts accordingly, sucking at Tony's bottom lip in a way that has always been one of his top five things as far as kissing is concerned. He settles one large hand on Tony's side, fingers curling in against the worn fabric of his faded red t-shirt.

Bruce's pinky finger nudges at the bare skin stretching between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his boxers, and then that's all the contact they have for several stretching seconds when Bruce pulls back just far enough that he can peck a series of quick kisses to one corner of Tony's smiling mouth.

Breathing hard, Tony manages to pull himself together quickly enough, but it doesn't last. He winds up laughing a little breathlessly when Bruce leans back in and presses a kiss at where Tony's (rather pathetic) attempts at growing a goatee show in a scraggly patch of black hair just underneath his chin.

"We should have done this sooner," Tony announces when he can speak without laughing. He reaches for Bruce's shirt and uses his grip on the dark green polo to haul the other man forward.

Kissing Bruce is fun.

Pulling Bruce's shirt up and off so that he can get one hand halfway down his pants is even better and when Bruce moans and tries to thrust up against the grip of Tony's hand, Tony can tell that Bruce feels the same way.

Getting into Bruce's pants is easy.

Tony knows what he wants (has known from the second that Bruce had corrected the professor during that first lecture session on time evolution) so if his fingers fumble, it's because he's excited to finally get what he's been fantasizing about for weeks.

Not nerves.

No.

It's definitely not because of nervousness that Tony winds up taking over a minute to get Bruce's pants undone and shoved down once Bruce has helpfully moved to sit back with his legs spread slightly.

"Talk to me," Tony says as he watches Bruce watch him with die eyes as though he's trying desperately to memorize the scene in front of him.

He curls his fingers around the shaft of Bruce's dick and starts to stroke a little, going slowly at the start so he can see the effect that touch has on Bruce.

When Bruce groans and bucks a little for the back and forth rub of Tony's callused fingers to a spot just underneath the head of his dick, Tony laughs and watches Bruce try to fuck his fist as his own arousal burns in the pit of his stomach.

"Talk to me, Bruce." Tony repeats his question in a deeper register, working Bruce's dick slowly despite the low moans that fall steadily from the other man's lips. Thumbing the precome slicked tip with less pressure than he usually uses on himself, Tony grins sharply at the way Bruce bucks into his grip. "Talk to me or I keep playing around like this. It's your choice."

Bruce's brown eyes threaten to roll into the back of his head.

"I think I hate you," Bruce gasps out after several seconds pass with him struggling to say something coherent instead of moaning as though he can't utter any other sound. Reaching for Tony with one trembling hand, Bruce squeezes his shoulder briefly and then laughs a little breathlessly when Tony squeezes him right back (albeit in a far more sensitive area).

Tony grins.

"You don't hate me," he says confidently, letting go of Bruce's heavy erection so that he can drag his fingers through the impressively large puddle of precome that has collected on the folds of Bruce's stomach. When Tony raises his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean with a slow movement of his tongue, Bruce actually  _whimpers_  and his head drops back against the threadbare couch cushions behind him.

Actually seeing Bruce come undone in front of him after weeks spent imagining what it would look like is a heady sort of thing.

Tony feels drunk off it, from watching Bruce's thick thighs flex as he tries to fuck the firm circle of Tony's fingers.  Even without knowing Bruce's body as well as he wants to (and Tony will go about fixing that as soon as possible), Tony can read people well enough to read the signs that Bruce's body is all but screaming at him.

Bruce is close to coming.

He's close to coming in Tony's hand and that's probably the best and most important part of this whole thing. Tony has wanted this for  _ages_  and now he has what he's been dreaming of for weeks: Bruce spread out for him and flushed in the best ways possible. He looks debauched and in need of a good tonguing on top of that. Tony feels his mouth watering, but he pushes the thought and the hunger aside for the time being.

There'll (hopefully) be a next time for oral.

"I'm going to get your hand sticky," Bruce warns with a wavering smile making an appearance at his lips.

Tony licks his lips quickly. "I don't care," he announces with a smile and another one of those quick squeezes that leaves Bruce groaning. "What's the point in not making a mess? Besides, if you're so worried about making a mess, you can always lick my hand clean."

That's the last thing that Tony gets out before Bruce is coming all over his fingers in sticky spurts. It's not unexpected, of course, but Tony still finds himself almost wishing that he'd gotten in one lick before that.  Looking down at where his fingers still curl around Bruce's shaft, Tony feels his own dick twitch before he's suddenly locked into wondering he could have ignored his own arousal for so long.

Tony wants to lick Bruce's stomach clean.  He wants to stuff his hands down his boxers. He wants to come. But most of all, Tony just wants. He's not sure what, but the want is there and demanding. That's the extent of it.

"I should go wash my hands, huh," Tony says, smiling a bit at Bruce who has that "just come, try again later," look on his face. "I'll be back. Just tell me --"

Bruce stops him before he can do more than  _glance_  in the general direction of the dorm room's tiny kitchen.

"Sit down," he says softly. When Tony does as commanded, Bruce smiles again and pushes his fingers through his thick hair. "I'll take care of it." He licks his lips quickly. "You don't have to go anywhere."


End file.
